Vulture
by IzayaOrihara7-inactive-account
Summary: I suppose I was always underestimated. How far I was willing to go. How seriously I could take what they thought was some kind of sick joke. It still is a joke to me. I clutch my sides and guffaw while their faces contort in shock and anguish. In disgust. I don't have a problem with laughing alone, I find amusement in the way it echoes around me. My sense of humor must be abnormal.
1. Prologue

_**VULTURE: (Break out Chapter)  
**_

* * *

_Welcome to my story._

* * *

_If I keep holding out__  
__Will the light shine through?_  
_Under this broken roof_  
_ it's only rain that I feel_  
_I've been wishing out the days_  
_come back_

He hung around, slithering through the shadows of that train station.  
An Undesirable, who was a King within his own mind. A Sewer Rat, who could gorge himself and become fat on his own self-confidence.

_I have been planning out_  
_All that I'd say to you_  
_Since you slipped away_  
_Know that I still remain true_  
_I've been wishing out the days_

He had the face of a rat.  
You could see, illuminated by the flashing lights, if you looked.  
If your eyes were not adhered to the thick stain of scarlet, across the tracks. You couldn't hear anything, over the wails of the ambulance and collective murmur of the crowd, but he was there.

_Please say, that if you hadn't of gone now_  
_I wouldn't have lost you another way_  
_From wherever you are_  
_Come back_

If you couldn't see the crimson guilt dripping off of his spindly fingers, you could sure as hell smell it.  
Everyone knew.  
But he, he was so slippery.  
Like a wet fish, like trying to catch smoke.

_And these days, they linger on_  
_And in the night as I'm waiting on_  
_The real possibility I may meet you in my dream_  
_I go to sleep_

'I was running for my life!'  
'I was only trying to get away...'  
'I, did nothing wrong, of course.'

Knowing the schedule of the trains was more swift a weapon than the knife in his pocket.

* * *

Change of scenery. It's been a few hours.  
By this point, news really had spread like wildfire. People stood in small groups out on the street, in the dark, light casting out from neon signs and so on. Whispering among themselves.

_If I don't fall apart_  
_Will the memories stay clear?_  
_So you had to go_  
_And I had to remain here_

He strode down the sidewalk, ears alert of the murmuring which fed into the smirking grin on his face.  
The scene that had played out in front of his, kept reeling itself through his mind.  
The wind from the sheer speed he'd been running at, whipping, clawing at his face, blowing hair off of his forhead and cheekbones. The loud, blaring of the train- The one that tore past the station at exactly 7:23 PM without stopping until the next prefecture.  
The other male behind him, spitting and hissing and breathing down his neck-  
Jumping flat out in front of the train, arms held out, reaching the other side of the tracks safely then immediately whipping around to watch that brute...

_But the strangest thing to date_  
_So far away_  
_And yet you feel so close_

_And I'm not gonna question it any other way_

Get sucked underneath the tracks.  
Yes.

_There must be an open door_  
_For you to_  
_Come back_

The noise the impact had made, that sick, wet, CRUNCH. The momentary look of horror, on that man's face, as he realized in a split second what was about to happen to him.

_And the days, they linger on_  
_And every night, what I'm waiting for_  
_Is the real possibility I may meet you in my dream_

Oh god, just thinking about the agony he must have endured in those moments.  
It was so enthralling.  
Mnnnm!

_And sometimes you're there_  
_And you're talking back to me_  
_Come the morning I could swear you're next to me_

And then, getting to stand back, and watch the train finish passing by...  
Sixteen seconds.

Sixteen seconds of inconceivable GLEE.

_And it's okay.  
_

Within minutes, a crowd of people had gathered. Ambulance had parked alongside of the tracks. Lifting... What wasn't even truly a person, just a mass of ripped up limbs and blood and gunk onto the stretcher. Frantic.  
Portable life support machines.

_It's okay._  
_It's okay._

Well. They hadn't pulled the tarp over him before they drove away, lights ans sirens screaming, presumably heading towards the nearest hospital.

_I'll be here_  
_Come back_  
_Come back_

He just stood there and laughed, absolutely having a goddamn ball.

_I'll be here_  
_Come back_  
_Come back_

Hmm...  
Insert our, not-so-heroic protagonist for tonight, here.  
Curtain close, and scene.

_I'll be here_  
_Come back_  
_Come back_

Tune into this station next week for the next episode.

_. . . I'll be here._

* * *

[[ Greetings. Been awhile since I've written for you, huh? ]]_  
_[[ Here's the first chapter to one I've been working on as of late. I've got a few more chapters handwritten to type up before I'll be breaking out into free-typing the rest. ]]

[[ Since you last heard from me... I've gotten my own laptop. It's a wonderful thing. I'll certainly be posting a lot more to this site from now on. ]]

[[ This one... Will be interesting. It's still in progress here, the plot is a bit watery and I'm looking for suggestions on how to keep going, as you'll see a couple chapters into this I reach an impasse. ]]  
[[ It's a little early to be talking about this now, though. ]]

[[ Since this was quite a breakout into the story itself,  
though a little vague, feedback would be appreciated. ]]  
[[ All following chapters will be written more traditionally, rather than in the manner used for this short first chapter. ]]

[[ Considering, the summary is rather vague, and so is this chapter, I can imagine how a reader may feel in regards to this. Ahahaha. ]]  
[[ That's okay. If you didn't quite catch on here I can understand that. I wrote it this way on purpose. Things will become clearer as we move further into the story. ]]

[[ The lyrics included between lines are from Pearl Jam's ''Come Back''.  
This isn't really all too... significant. I just added it on a whim, to give some bulk and a bit of flow to the piece so far, so that it's a little more satisfying to read. I'm listening to my Spotify on shuffle, as I usually do as I write. This song just happened to come on as I was typing up this author's note.  
It's got a nice, hollow feel to it and the melody itself is rather languid which matches the feeling I think that this part should give off. ]]

[[ Finally. I just made it M Rated, because my overall writing style tends not to be kid-friendly. It's probably not suitable for what's CURRENTLY posted to the story but as I go on it should be a little more fitting.]]

[[ Anyhoo. ]]  
[[ Next chapter will be written traditionally, will be longer, and you'll actually get to see what the fuck is going on. ]]

[[ Adios, for now, darlings. ]]


	2. Hello, My Name Is DOUCHEBAG

_**VULTURE: Hello, My Name Is DOUCHEBAG  
**_

* * *

_Welcome to my story._

* * *

Orihara Izaya was not, no, he certainly was not the most dynamic, triumphant, pure-of-heart hero on the face of this earth. In all honesty, he was far from it.  
He'd been thrown a lot of tomatoes, but he kept right on performing. He'd been called a lot of names, but other's words meant next to nothing to him.  
He danced to his own tempoed beat.  
No, he really didn't have a lot of friends, per say.  
In fact? He didn't truly have any at all.

They should change the name of the sitcom to 'Everybody Hates Izaya'.

He was a particularly unpleasant individual.  
Straight down to his appearance. Not to say that he was unattractive, in actuality, the opposite was the case. But he did give off a certain air, with his looks, that sent up red flags, made the hair on the back of one's neck stand on end.

No, don't go near that guy.

He wasn't very tall, and he wasn't very intimidating in stature. He stood at about 5 foot 6, wore a deep collared V-neck shirt that exposed too-prominent collarbones. Over his pencil thin, long legs; near-skintight jeans that flared out at the bottom, where his steel-toed black hiking boots began. Pulled over his shoulders was a heavy-duty-wear, Eskimo -styled coat, a black-brown lined with dingy, cream-colored fur at the sleeves, hem and hood. His spindly, bony fingers were just too long, and he wore a silver ring on each index finger that resembled somewhat to the jewelry a mafia-head would wear.  
Mr. Orihara had a handsome, youthful face.  
But it wasn't a traditional form of 'handsome', like those stubbly actors with strong jaws, cleft chins and weary blue puppy dog eyes.  
His face was very fox-like.  
He had a pointed, narrow chin that gave into a steep slope topped with high cheekbones. He had a sharp nose that tilted upward slightly, thin dark eyebrows that raised mockingly over slanted, very Asian eyes.  
His raven feather black hair was smooth and thin, parted cleanly and cut exactly into style, with small pale ears that stuck out a bit underneath the dark locks.  
And he'd be grinning. He was always, always grinning.  
It wasn't really a 'happy' grin, either. It was the smug, condescending, suspicious kind of grin that immediately made you self conscious. Like he knew something about you, or something that pertained to you, that you didn't. And, given his line of work, that was probably true.

Periodically, the tip of his tongue would slip out and lick over his thin lips, white teeth.  
He was just... Dastardly, in every way.  
It came off of him in waves.

The young man was in his twenties, early twenties, self-employed and very successful.  
Said employment wasn't a very honest business. He spread his name out within the underground, peddling information between gangs, coworkers, lovers, lawyers.  
He sold _DIRT_. And he was good at it.

His clients ranged from spiteful ex-wives holding grudges to prominent Yakuza suits. Men with the power to assassinate targets widespread, with every tick of a clock.  
It was a nasty occupation, filled with all sorts of unspeakable endeavors for information. Bullets whizzed past his ears just as frequently as mud was slung at his name.

Last year he had taken a knife to the gut on his very date of birth.

But, he never seemed to tire of his work. Quote, he loved it so much it made him sick. Actually, take that however you like.  
He possessed the means to dump a suitcase-full of cash onto his bedspread and roll around in it, nude. Following that old cliche.  
His occupation played into his festering interests.  
Human manipulation.

But we'll talk more about that later.  
For now, as we have had our solo cast member for this performance introduced, allow us to move on with our story, yes?

* * *

/ Ahaha. I apologize. It's another short chapter. Unfortunately this is all I have the time to type up at the moment.  
However, I think it's a good introduction to our main character, yes?  
Even if you readers will, likely be already familiar with the character, considering this is a fanfiction, I like to follow the general rule, of assuming my readers have no idea what I am talking about.  
I find it makes for a fuller and more satisfying story all around.

Reviews will motivate me to update faster.


End file.
